


Impatience

by Anonymous



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consent is Sexy, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8027110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Hartley was really good at being patient.  If the end result was something he wanted, he would dive for it, set a careful trap, and he had no qualms waiting as long as it took to get what he wanted.Cisco saw none of that patience now.





	Impatience

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god I don't normally write pwps. I pray that y'all tolerate this weird addition to the fandom. Also please excuse my google translate Spanish. I'm learning the language but it's a slow process and it's probably all kinds of messed up.

Hartley was really good at being patient. If the end result was something he wanted, he would dive for it, set a careful trap, and he had no qualms waiting as long as it took to get what he wanted.

Cisco saw none of that patience now.

Even though it was their Saturday night date night, Hartley looked more hungry to eat him than the Thai food from the place down the street that they'd originally planned to dine at, and Cisco knew how heavenly that place was through many many personal experiences. But no, Hartley couldn't be swayed with delicious peanut noodles.

His eyes had been aggressive fire the second he'd arrived, and now as Hartley shoved Cisco down on his bed, there was exactly no patience to be found anywhere in him. Dinner was probably not happening. Okay, then.

They usually took things easy, but something had set Hartley off tonight. Cisco tried to grin, patting Hartley's cheek with his hand, "Uh, babe? Wanna take a second before you ravish me to like, talk?"

Hartley rolled his eyes, "Hello, Cisquito, how was your day?"

This was deceptive behavior—because Hartley just didn't stop to talk, he got busy. He had stripped and thrown Cisco's hoody on the floor, taking only a second to grimace at Cisco's "Otter Space" T-Shirt.

"You're so full of shit, Hartley," Cisco scoffed, "I meant, why are you acting like this?"

"Because today sucked," Hartley groused, his hand slipping under Cisco's shirt. "Consent?"

"I would've fucked you up way sooner than this if you didn't have it," Cisco confirmed, relieved that Hartley had still had enough reign on himself to ask. Not really the best time, seeing as Hartley had already been tracing his happy trail with his finger when Cisco had responded, but oh well, this evening was going fast anyway.

He hadn't even wasted time getting him fully undressed; he just shoved Cisco's shirt up to his armpits and popped his fly, just barely enough undressing to give him access and nothing more. Cisco couldn't help but squirm a little as the cold air reached his bare skin, sending goosebumps down his arms.

Hartley stuck his hand into Cisco's boxers, his fingers curling around the base of his cock. Cisco keened at the attention, arousal a throbbing warmth in his belly. His hips bucked up into the touch, but Hartley's attention had moved elsewhere. Those eyes, hazel and pupils blown wide with lust, were hyper focused, intent.

Cisco felt Hartley's mouth close over his nipple, hot and wet, scraping with just a hint of his teeth to make it hot, to make him writhe and rut against Hartley's stationary hand. His back arched, his neck shamelessly presented, his chest heaving with every excited breath.

Hartley gave him one last, hard suck, his other hand steadying himself on the pane of Cisco's stomach. His nipple was so full, swollen from the attention that Hartley's gorgeous mouth had given it, that even the hot rush of his breath sent a twinge of painful pleasure up Cisco's spine. And the ass didn't just stop with one. The other, pert but untouched, was Hartley's next target.

His mouth was fucking sinful, and his tongue, hot and slick, licked a stripe up from under the swell of his breast, around his nipple, to his collarbone, and where Hartley stopped, he sucked a bruise into the taupe skin, wine-red blooming in a circle just beneath where Cisco's shirt would normally sit.

Hartley took his time with Cisco's nipple, massaging it with his tongue until Cisco felt so sensitive he wanted to scream. Sucking on it, milking him, His hips kept jerking as he tried to relieve some of the pressure built in his cock, his legs spreading wide like a whore. Cisco wanted Hartley between them immediately, wanted to grind their hips together until they both came in their pants like teenagers.

Hartley climbed up on the bed, his hand shifting Cisco until he had his knees thrown over Hartley's shoulders, his cock inches from that glorious mouth.

"Your move," Hartley breathed, his voice just this side of smug.

"Yeah, we're all green here. I'll tell you if we go red," Cisco replied, because maybe this was a bit different from what they'd done before but he could deal with Hartley getting his mouth on him. It wasn't like he didn't trust Hartley; for everything else that Hartley was, he was good in bed, and especially good at giving head.

Hartley wasted no time in grabbing it by the base, squeezing just enough to make Cisco shout, and licking a swirl into the head of his cock. Cisco whined, his body seizing up as he tried to thrust up further into Hartley's mouth. Pleasure spiked in his system with every caress of Hartley's tongue. His slit began to leak beads of precum, and Hartley caught them with his lower lip as he finally loosed his grip enough for Cisco to fuck his face.

And those pink lips looked so good wrapped around him, Cisco thought, almost incoherently, as he felt Hartley's throat work around the tip of his cock, his tongue working the veins near the base.

"Hartley," Cisco whispered, because he knew his voice, wrecked with pleasure and deep, throaty, was one of Hartley's several kinks. He liked loud bed-partners, and Cisco had no problems being loud for Hartley, if he worked for it. "Hartley, you feel so good, so fucking—Ah!"

Hartley moaned around Cisco's cock, his long fingers curling into the meat of Cisco's dark thighs in order to ground himself.

Cisco could feel it though, once Hartley regained his eagle-eyed focus, because his mouth hollowed out and he sucked, so hard and hot and wet that Cisco bucked up with a scream, so close to orgasm that he could barely control himself, and Hartley didn't stop. He sucked harder, his teeth scraping just how Cisco liked it, his tongue swirling delicious patterns of pleasure until Cisco couldn't help it. He was pushed over the brink by one last thrust into Hartley's gorgeous mouth, his throat swallowing around his cum without pause.

And Hartley didn't pull off immediately either, his tongue still licking Cisco clean and wringing the last of his orgasm out until he was too sensitive to stand it and the pleasure turned to pain.

When Hartley pulled back, Cisco unhooked his legs and leaned up, finding his way to that swollen mouth and kissing him, soft and gentle.

"Vistoso," Cisco cooed, watching as the fire in Hartley's eyes turned from aggression to passion, his every limb going soft like putty in Cisco's large hands.

Hartley would never admit it, but he got off on sweet and slow, and Cisco once would've never considered giving it to him, but it was so easy just to smother Hartley in praise until he wrecked himself, so aroused he could barely speak, that it was very rewarding to push his buttons until he quite literally burst.

Cisco rolled them over, so now it was Hartley on his back.

"What is it that you want, baby?" Cisco asked, letting his voice go deep and his accent filter back in, just enough to make Hartley look even more hot under the collar.

Speaking of which.

Cisco made a show of pulling off his shirt, hoping Hartley would get the message. He was still wearing far too many clothes. But he'd overestimated Hartley's ability to think outside his lizard brain, because the only effect his bare chest had on him was that now Hartley's eyes were tracing up his stomach, to his swollen nipples, then finally to the bite he'd left there earlier.

"I don't know what I want," Hartley rasped, hungry.

Cisco raised an eyebrow. Usually that's only what Hartley said when he was embarrassed about whatever it was he desired. And that kind of embarrassment should be long gone, considering Hartley had just had Cisco's dick in his mouth.

"I won't touch you until you tell me what you want me to do," Cisco told him, but it was something of a lie, considering how his hand was already stroking back Hartley's sex-ruffled hair.

He let his thumbs wander over Hartley's cheekbones, admiring how fragile and sharp he was under his skin, how his milky skin was diaphanous to the point where his veins ran startlingly blue under Cisco's fingers. Holding his face, watching as those hazel eyes dilated with lust, Cisco pressed another kiss to his mouth, breathing him in, keeping Hartley at the breathless high he'd already achieved.

"What do you want me to do?" He whispered against Hartley's lips.

"Touch me," Hartley managed to reply, his words returning to him. His voice was still much too breathy and exerted for having been lying still underneath Cisco, still too excited, and it was thrilling to know that Cisco didn't even have to touch Hartley's dick to get him this aroused. He just had to be a little sweeter, a little more doting, and come on, he was Cisco Ramon, he was inherently soft and sweet.

It wasn't even pretend when he showered Hartley with affection, as much as he wished he could say otherwise. It was just him letting out the person who he'd long ago locked up around Hartley, the one who'd said, "Yo, this is so dope," before Hartley promptly informed him that he was the world's biggest ass. Then soft Cisco, sweet Cisco, they vanished around Hartley. He couldn't let his guard down around someone so smart that his whipcrack intelligence could fix their particle accelerator equation at the same time that he made clever, soft voiced insults that the whole team recoil with honest hurt.

But that had been then, and this was now, and Hartley's mouth had just been on his cock. If he wanted any pleasure in return for that, there was no way Hartley would make any wicked comments, and it was one of the few times Cisco just let himself be unguarded, be soft and sweet, around Hartley. It was his afterglow, the good feeling all throughout him post-orgasm, post a really good orgasm, that really let him dote on Hartley, which normally would be the equivalent of petting a cactus.

Remembering Hartley's command, Cisco kissed him again and asked coyly, "Like this?"

"F-fuck you," Hartley whined, his hips thrusting up and grinding against Cisco's thigh.

"Working on it, babe," He gently pushed Hartley back down onto the bed, keeping his hips pinned to the mattress with his hands.

Oh, and his pants were tight enough that they barely tented, there just wasn't enough give. Cisco thumbed at the button, glancing up at Hartley's face for a go ahead.

Hartley nodded, his cheeks ruddy with color.

The button popped with little effort, and the zipper just about undid itself. Cisco had to physically restrain himself from saying something dorky that would completely ruin the mood, like "Release the river," in Treebeard's resonant accent—Hartley would definitely kick him in the face if he joked right about now.

Maybe next time, he thought, tracing his fingers over the thin black cotton of Hartley's boxer-briefs. The feather light touch had Hartley choking back a moan.

Cisco pulled at both pieces of fabric, shoving them down off Hartley's thighs. And the cream pale skin of his hips left in his wake, dotted with cute little moles here and there, flushed with the sudden cold. Cisco trailed his fingers down the crease where Hartley's thigh met his pelvis, the back of his knuckles just barely brushing his swollen, aroused cock.

Everything about Hartley was pretty, and even though dicks in general weren't very attractive, Hartley still managed to have the prettiest package he'd ever seen. It was a pink-red against Cisco's brown fingers, the contrast intoxicating. It made it like second nature to stroke one of Hartley's veins up to the head, just to feel how hard he was as well as see. He kept his touch light, his fingers too dry to go faster or tighter.

"Lube?" Cisco asked, watching Hartley whimper and writhe, his hips pressing up against Cisco's hold as he sook relief.

"Drawer," Hartley panted, his eyes screwing shut as he tried to catch his breath.

It had to hurt, being this aroused for so long, and Cisco was here to make Hartley scream in pleasure, not keep him uncomfortable. So as tempted as it was to just enjoy Hartley's desperation a little longer, Cisco ignored that desire, climbing off the bed and rifling through Hartley's nightstand looking for the bottle as soon as he'd registered his response.

Finding the tube he was looking for, Cisco climbed back over Hartley, sitting on his legs to keep him still.

"Hurry up," Hartley commanded, his hands grasping at the sheets.

"Hush babe, I've got you," Cisco murmured, slicking up his fingers.

He stroked up, his fist gentle around Hartley's cock. The feeling extracted a hiss from his pretty mouth, but it wasn't enough.

Cisco repeated the motion, squeezing just a bit tighter.

"Ci-Cisco—!" Hartley keened, covering his face.

That did it. Cisco set a slow pace, his weight keeping Hartley from bucking up, and he proceeded to just torture him with it. Every pump of his hand had Hartley moaning half in frustration, half in pleasure.

"Cisco!" Hartley growled at him.

Cisco let his voice dip low as he replied, "I'll take care of you, sweetheart. You just have to ask me to."

"Faster!" He commanded.

Cisco slowed down. He had said ask, not demand, and getting Hartley to ask nicely was one of the benefits of what he was doing now.

He kissed Hartley, deep and slow, messy and hot, until Hartley was almost to tears, desperate and shaking. Cisco pulled back, placing a kiss on his cheek, and insisted, "Ask nicely, mi amor."

"Más ràpido, por favor, dios mio—lo necesito, por favor, Cisquito, ¡por favor—!" Hartley babbled, his honey smooth voice breaking as he begged.

He'd turned to Spanish for his passion; rasping his vowels and rolling his r's, and for a white boy Hartley's pronunciation had always been amazing. It felt right to hear him gasping in Cisco's first language, right that the words he felt were like home to him would come out of Hartley's mouth.

With such a prettily worded request, how could Cisco say no?

He stroked up, picking up his pace, and on the downstroke Cisco squeezed his fingers tighter, pumping him harder and faster. He flicked his thumb on the head, dragging his nail down the sensitive skin just enough that Hartley whined, high in his throat and desperate.

His hips strained against Cisco's weight, twitching as he tried to jack up into Cisco's hand. He made a very nice picture. If Cisco had a camera, he'd definitely take a photograph of this, just so he could remember what a mess he'd made of Hartley.

Hartley's breathing picked up a notch, his body tensing, and Cisco took that as his clue to speed up. He worked his hand fast, Hartley's dick bouncing back and forth from the movements, flushed and full and throbbing in Cisco's hand. The noises Hartley was making were so throaty and well fucked that Cisco could almost feel himself getting a bit aroused again. He didn't have long left.

Hartley suddenly seized, the muscles in his stomach rolling as he tried to curl in on himself. With a cry that he muffled into Cisco's chest, Hartley spilled himself over Cisco's fingers.

He panted, his eyes slipping shut and his body trembling with the last few spurts of his orgasm, and oh, nope, if Cisco had thought that Hartley's earlier face was nice, this one was nicer. He'd gone completely nonverbal, his expression blissed out. He looked happy, content, his irritation smoothed out into a quiet ecstasy.

Cisco climbed off of Hartley's legs, laying down next to him and pulling him close, essentially snuggling with him, not that either of them would ever admit to willingly entangling themselves.

Cisco ran a hand through Hartley's curly hair, ruffling it and enjoying the weird prickle of short locks against the pads of his clean fingers. As for the other ones, he wiped them somewhat discreetly on his jeans, which already were stained anyway. Hartley made a happy sort of noise, approving, and Cisco let himself stay soft and sweet for just a while longer.

"I've got you," he promised. "Yo me ocuparé de ti, lingo."

Hartley nodded, content to cling back.

While he waited, Cisco drew constellations between the moles on Hartley's skin with his thumbs, pressing in sometimes just to watch as his skin yellowed under pressure and faded, tiny little marks much quicker than bruises but no less meaningful. Hartley was, in an inconvenient mess of ways, inescapably Cisco's, even if no one could tell from the surface.

He'd press his claim a thousand times into Hartley's skin until he realized how deeply he was loved.

Hartley hummed, his head tucked under Cisco's chin, his eyelashes brushing across his collarbone with every blink. "What are you doing?"

Cisco let a grin come over his face. He teased, "Oh hello, Hartley, welcome back."

"My question stands," Hartley snapped, but there was no bite to it. He still sounded happy; the good kind of sleepy.

"Checking to see how dehydrated you are," Cisco lied, pushing his thumb again once more into Hartley's bare hip-bone. "Drink more water, lindo."

Hartley saw right through him, he could tell in an instant, but he didn't say anything indicating that he knew Cisco was full of it. Instead he just quirked his eyebrow and melted right back into Cisco's arms.

They had a moment of comfortable, warm silence, until Cisco said off-handedly, "So, you know that Thai place delivers?"


End file.
